Governor Hogan’s recent stay in place order for almost all residents of Maryland during a very uncertain time led me to think about another very uncertain time in another March … March of 1979.

I don’t know where you were in March 1979 but I vividly recall where I was. I was working and living in Harrisburg Pennsylvania when the nearby Three Mile Island nuclear power plant experienced a partial meltdown.

While the immediate scope of this catastrophe was on a much much much much smaller scale than the current coronavirus pandemic, there are some eerie similarities.

Harold Denton

The initial response from Met Ed (owner and operator of TMI) was denial as to the severity of the incident, delayed responses which made a bad situation much worse and great confusion about next steps to address the problem. All of that, coupled with silent, serious and invisible health threats from radiation; 24-7 media coverage that was frenzied, long on conjecture and short on facts; and communication breakdowns at multiple levels caused widespread fear and panic among the citizenry of south central Pennsylvania.

It quickly reached a point where then President Carter (himself a nuclear engineer) called the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission (NRC) and told them he wanted someone on the ground at TMI immediately who could report back to him on exactly what was going on. The answer from the NRC was succinct “Mr. President, his name is Harold Denton. He is on his way.” Denton left Washington in the middle of a meeting so quickly, his son had to drive to Harrisburg the next day to deliver clean clothes to him.

Denton was later referred to by Pennsylvania Governor Thornburgh as THE hero of TMI.

At first glance, Harold Denton was an unexpected hero. He was a career bureaucrat, had a casual, almost rumpled appearance and spoke quietly.

Governor Thornburgh was right.

Denton who had a Ph.D. in nuclear engineering was indeed a hero to everyone who experienced those harrowing times. When Denton stepped off the helicopter that whisked him from Washington DC directly to TMI, he was met immediately by the senior management of Met Ed. They told him they appreciated him coming by (like it was some kind of social get together), that everything was under control, that the worst was over and they would keep him posted on what they were going to do next. Denton quickly dismissed all the happy talk from Met Ed. He knew instinctively they were wrong and he knew exactly what needed to be done. Denton calmly told them that under federal law he had sole authority to take full control and management of the power plant; which he did…on the spot.

From that point forward, Denton was everywhere. He was at the staging area across from the power plant, inside the power plant, attending public town hall meetings, talking to the media horde that came to Harrisburg from around the world, meeting with the Governor and standing beside President Carter when he toured the control room of the stricken reactor. Most importantly, Denton spoke directly to the public, acknowledging they had every right to be confused and scared. He explained what he knew when he knew it, using understandable layman’s terms.

In retrospect. Harold Denton rose to the occasion by displaying outstanding leadership skills and outstanding crisis management skills. He was candid, never pointed fingers, never assigned blame and never lost focus on doing the right thing during a time of great uncertainty and great public duress.

During these current uncertain times and going forward, Harold Denton’s actions serve as a great model for elected/appointed officials at all levels of government (and from both political parties) on how to address a problem by working together for the common good.

David Reel is the Maryland Director for Quantum Communications

One would think that the small army of pandemic deniers would start thinning as the number of cases and deaths rise. It’s not happening.  Some of us, including here on the Eastern Shore, see the problem as a combination of overreaction and disastrous policy decisions. Covid-19 is not terribly different than a bad year of the “regular flu,” they say.  And, had misguided politicians not shut down the economy, life would be continuing largely as it did before, especially in places like Talbot and Kent counties, where the number of coronavirus cases has been relatively small.

Much to my horror, both as a senior and as someone with an impaired immunity system, some are purposely ignoring directives on social distancing and other steps intended to stop the spread of contagion.  It is likely that if restaurants were open, pandemic deniers would be eating out, partying, and otherwise socializing as they did before the crisis. And if some of these deniers get a cold, it’s likely that they won’t take special efforts to avoid infecting others.

Such behavior, in the current environment, is criminal, or at least it should be. Ignoring proven means of preventing the spread of the virus is the same thing as purposely passing it on to others.  Depending on your demographic, that could mean creating a risk as high as 1 in 10 of killing someone.  

Fortunately, political leaders are taking steps to enforce the behaviors that should have been enthusiastically embraced by all of us. One hopes that it won’t be necessary to arrest or jail anyone, but most likely it will be. Unfortunately, the number of violators stopped by enforcement will likely be dwarfed by the number who ignore the directives and are not caught. It’s inconceivable that all “banned” birthday parties, social distancing violations, unwashed hands, and other “violations” will be stopped.

So, what to do?  First, in addition to supporting efforts to contain, treat, and stop the pandemic, learn what the “rules” are and follow them. The Spy, CDC, and dozens of other media outlets provide easy access to details. Second, when a neighbor or friend violates the “rules,” say something. For example, earlier this week, I ran into neighbors while walking my dog. The neighbors, suffering from the same cabin-fever afflicting many of us, immediately walked very close to me. The husband stuck out his hand to shake mine, smiling while he did it. “Good to see you, John,” he said, “How are you holding up?” I instinctively started to extend my hand but immediately thought better of it and took a quick three steps back. “I’m social distancing,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m trying to get used to the new world.”

Fortunately, my neighbors were not offended. They both politely laughed. The wife even said, “You can’t be too safe.” I smiled back and commented, “I’m looking for all this to be behind us.”  The friends nodded and we both went our separate ways.

My statement, that I’m looking forward to the end of the crisis, is obviously true. Unfortunately, I believe we are on the front-end of the crisis.  I expect worldwide cases of infection to top one million in the immediate future and three million by the end of April. I also expect the death toll to continue to rise, not only in cities, but also in rural areas. I understand that when the virus hits poorer parts of the world, the rates of death will skyrocket proportionately to the lack of available medical care. 

I hope not to personally become one of the statistics, but it’s not really in my control.  Governor Hogan, on March 29th commented, “I think that in two weeks, around Easter, we’re going to be looking at lot more like New York.” Dr. Anthony Fauci, the same day, suggested that the U.S. could see as many as 200,000 deaths. My hope is that the pandemic deniers wake up.  

If I am surrounded by even a few reckless, thoughtless, selfish, misguided, stupid people, my odds of infection increase. That is why I am angry at the deniers. You should be too. And, if you examine your behavior and see that you are part of the problem, please act now.  You’re putting countless others at risk.

J.E. Dean of Oxford is a retired attorney and public affairs consultant. He is a former counsel to the House Committee on Education and Labor. For more than 30 years, he advised clients on federal education and social service policy.